is pleasant with odours and light;
The soft lamp suspended, its mellowness throws
O'er cluster'd geranium, jasmine and rose;
The sleeping canary hangs caged midst the blooms,
A Sybarite slumberer steeped in perfumes;
For Alice still clings to her birds and her flowers,
Sweet tokens of kindlier, happier hours.

"To-morrow is Christmas!--but Beverly,--say,
Will it do to be glad when Papa is away?"
And the face that is tricksy and blythe as can be,
Tries vainly to temper its shadowless glee.

"For _you_, pet, I'm sure it is right to be glad;
'Tis a pitiful thing to see little ones sad;
But for Sophy and me, who are older, you know,--
We dare not be glad when we look at the snow!
I shrink from this comfort, this light and this heat,
This plenty to wear, and this plenty to eat,
When the soldiers who fight for us,--die for us,--lie,
With nothing around and above, but the sky;
When their clothes are so light, and the rations they deal,
Are only a morsel of bacon and meal:
And how can I fold my thick blankets around,
When I know that my father's asleep on the ground?
I'm ashamed to be happy, or merry, or free,
As if war and its trials were nothing to me:
Oh! I never can know any frolic or fun,--
Any real, mad romps,--till the battles are done!"
And the face of the boy, so heroic and fair,
Is touched with the singular shadow of care.
Sophy ceases her warbling, subdues her soft mirth,
And draws her low ottoman up to the hearth:

"But, brother, what good would it do to refuse
The comforts and blessings God gives us, or use
Them quite with indifference, as much as to say,
We care not how soon they are taken away!
I am sure I would give my last blanket, and spread
My pretty, blue cloak, at night, over my bed,--
(Mamma, you know, covers herself with her shawl,
Since we've sent all our blankets,)--but, then, it's too small!
Would Papa be less hungry or cold, do you think,
If _we_ had too little to eat or to drink?
So I mean to be busy,--I mean to be glad;
Mamma says there's time enough yet to be sad;
I'll work for the soldiers,--I'll pray, and I'll plan,
And just be as happy as ever I can;
I've made the grey shirt, and I've finished the socks:--
So come, let us help,--they are packing the box."

How grateful the task is to Alice! her ca